


The Ruin of Boredom

by May



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 04:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/May/pseuds/May
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's grown bored over the sweeps, which you've never been allowed to do, at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ruin of Boredom

**Author's Note:**

> "Often has leisure ruined great kings and fine cities." - Catullus

She’s old and you are ageless. She’s come around to where she is because she’s lived and she’s experienced.

She waves a hand to scour a planet. Disappointment curdles inside you and you hold onto it. To many, she is death just as much as you are, and if she’s allowed to come around and hop on to boredom as yet another curve in the life that she’s living, you’re allowed to be able to do the same. You haven’t in a long time because, for you, life is unchanging.

“You’ve changed,” you say, bluntly. She looks at you, and it’s lazy. She’s almost unchanged in body, as you are; it’s all in the expression. She used to be all razor edges at the prospect of challenge, bright eyed when she thought she knew power. Her eyes are content, now, like a pampered animal that’s forgotten how to hunt.

“It happens,” she shrugs. “Three thousand sweeps or so, I ain’t counting. It’s just same old, same old, you know?”

You do know, but you never found out for yourself. “Yes. You have no rivals left.” She shrugs, again, a more exaggerated gesture than before; it stings, and you hold onto that, too. You used to turn time as she dismantled civilisations, and made them hers. You stole into the dark corners she made. Most trolls meet you with fear, with relief and with the aftermath of the glory of dying in battle. She met you as a challenge, a combatant. You kissed her and she never yielded to death.

“Listen,” she says. “It fucking happens. A few thousand planets and you stop being interested in the fucking small print of it all. After a while, you ain’t even always bothering to send in the clowns.”

She pulls herself out of her chair and, although she hasn’t aged much in a long, long time, it seems like her bones should be creaking. She turns towards you. “You know what I mean, right?”

“I must just continue,” you say. “Death doesn’t stop.” It used to spur her on that you were a figure of legend. Once, she had been enamoured of what she could be. Countless submit to her but they pray to you. She envied your eternity, and you envied her vitality. Together, she was more like you, and you could be more like her.

She tilts her head in complacency and you, once again, are caught on the threshold of existence. You’re stuck in your unlife, again.

The last planet you ever see is Alternia, itself. When you see hives caved in, when the small bodies of wigglers litter the ground, and you see cracked little horns and broken limbs, when the mothergrub, herself, is dead, you know that the Alternian empire has been cut off at its source and it’s the end. All you need to do, now, is wait for her to find out.

She is all sharp edges, again, when it’s her own planet in desecration. You give her the eternity she wanted, and you finally feel old when you die.

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a HSWC fill for the bonus round.


End file.
